


Joining the Cause

by queerlyobscure (softestpunk)



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Cock Worship, First Meetings, First Time, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-20
Updated: 2012-01-20
Packaged: 2017-10-29 20:12:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/323708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softestpunk/pseuds/queerlyobscure
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ralof's first meeting with Ulfric, and his acceptance as an early Stormcloak. Liberties taken.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Joining the Cause

“Who are you?” Ulfric boomed, sitting on the throne like it was a comfortable arm chair among the loyal men he had left. Of course he was comfortable. He was the rightful king.

Ralof approached cautiously, readying himself to speak his part as eloquently as he could. There was something about this ancient hall that made him feel as though he should have turned up in polished armour and with a servant of his own.

“My name is Ralof, my Lord, of Riverwood.” He bowed low, glancing at Ulfric's boots as they came to eye level. Everything about him was fine and strong.

“And what are you doing in my hall, Ralof of Riverwood?”

Looking up again, Ralof squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. “I've heard you're forming a rebellion. I want to be of use.”

There was a long silence while Ulfric looked him up and down. Ralof could feel the Jarl's eyes penetrating him, as though he could see into his heart and know whether or not he was telling the truth. He held his breath while he waited, and only let it out when Ulfric smiled.

“We were about to eat.” He nodded to the long table in the middle of the hall, laden with food and drink such that Ralof had only ever imagined. “Sit with me.”

Ralof followed Ulfric's order, and waited until the other man took his place at the head of the table before sitting at his left hand side. The older man smiled at him and nodded for him to start eating, which wasn't an order he'd have to hear twice.

While they ate, Ulfric asked him questions about his home and his reasons for joining the rebellion. They took no thought at all. _It's only a small village, built up around a mill. I have no family left to speak of. I want my freedom back. I think it's weak not to stand up and fight for your own people._

Ulfric nodded along, and Ralof knew he sounded exactly like every other farm boy and hot-blooded teenager who wanted to fight the good fight, who would sit in inns and crow about a Skyrim for the Nords, and then run at the first sign of trouble.

“My father was killed in the war. I do not wish vengeance, but I do want to save someone else's father. I could be of use to you exactly because I have no one.”

At that, Ulfric paused. Something flashed across his eyes, an expression that only lasted for a moment, but that Ralof suspected might have been surprise.

“You are a wiser man than you would have had me believe, Ralof. And you have not yet told me all your reasons. But I like you nonetheless.” Ulfric's huge hand – so obviously the hand of a king – came down on Ralof's shoulder. A friendly pat on the back. Acceptance. A way in.

It was everything Ralof had wanted, and he ate and drank happily, turning his mind to the future instead of the past and taking stock of his comrades in arms to be. They seemed fine men, and strong as well, most of them battle-worn, but not yet weary. He had been born a soldier, a soldier's son, and now he would go on to take up his sword in his father's place.

When Ulfric offered him a bed for the night, he had not expected it would be the Jarl's own, but had no complaints. If becoming Ulfric Stormcloak's new bed warmer was all he was good for, then that would be enough; he would help the rebellion by keeping the leader happy, and that was all he needed to know of himself; that when the day came that Skyrim triumphed, he could say he'd done his part.

He went to his knees easily, stomach clenching at the chance to get this close to Ulfric Stormcloak. He didn't think for a moment that he was being offered unquestioned trust, but there was more trust in this than he'd expected to be given on his first day. He intended to earn it.

With Ulfric's hand gripping his hair, he watched as the other man untied his laces and pulled his cock out. A few strokes brought it to full hardness – was it much bigger than Ralof's own, or did it just look it when he was less than an inch away? He closed his eyes and let his mouth fall open, wanting to return the gesture of trust Ulfric had already made.

The taste of salt and clean skin touched his tongue first, and then his lips began to spread around the width of the Jarl's cock. It was comforting, not having to worry about what he might say and having his mouth completely full. Ulfric nudged at the back of his throat, but went no further. Taking the hint, Ralof sealed his lips as well as he could and sucked on the other man's cock, blocking out remembered cries of 'cock-sucker' from his past. He knew that they'd kill him to take his place now, and that was satisfaction enough.

After what seemed like an age, Ulfric grunted, and the bitter-sweet taste of his seed flowed down Ralof's throat. Ralof's own cock throbbed, but he ignored it in favour of not giving up his prize just yet, suckling gently to clean Ulfric's softening cock. A string of spit connected them for a few moments after Ulfric withdrew, and then he was gone completely. Something in Ralof deflated at the loss, but it wasn't the something between his legs.

“Stand.” Ulfric ordered. Ralof scrambled to his feet to present himself in front of the Jarl, holding his breath again to see what would happen next.

Ulfric put his hand between Ralof's legs, squeezing firmly and then rubbing with all the confidence of a king giving orders. Confidence that he was entitled to touch like this. Ralof groaned deeply and felt himself spill in his trousers, much too quickly, but this was obviously what Ulfric had expected.

“Good boy.” He petted Ralof's hair, smoothing down the mess he'd made of it. “Sleep. I'll join you when I can.”

Ralof collapsed into the soft, warm bed with little further encouragement, barely aware of undressing. Whatever happened from now on, he would play his part well.


End file.
